


Two in the Cabin

by tomara



Category: Captain Harlock
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Gentle Sex, PWP, Xenophilia, fem!Harlock, full of mime headcanons tbh, harlock being tied up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22868986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomara/pseuds/tomara
Summary: Most often, Harlock wants to devote her free time to Mime.
Relationships: Harlock (Captain Harlock)/Miime | La Mime





	Two in the Cabin

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Двое в каюте](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/562012) by Lie Is A Cake. 



> a rough translation of my work yay

The automatic door slid smoothly, letting Harlock into the cabin. As expected, Mime was there. She was sitting on the bed, slowly fingering the harp strings. An empty bottle of liquor laid on the side somewhere, and Harlock knew, felt that this part of the ship was the calmest.

“It was not the easiest battle that fell on Arcadia,” said Mime, not drowning the harp. “But a glorious one.”

“Right. I liked it,” Harlock grinned, sitting down on the bed. “But sometimes even this is exhausting.”

She reached out, looking at Mime. The movements of her fingers alone were bewitching, and one could look at them — literally for a moment — and calm down too...

“Is that so?”

“We haven’t had any experience of fighting a whole empire yet. And a technologically advanced one,” Harlock said. “Well, give me some time. I’ll get used to it.”

Mime used her abilities only in cases the need for which she determined herself. Now there was no need. She has been travelling with Harlock for such a long time that she already knew how she could help.

Harlock knew only that Mime had rather specific ideas of relaxation. The ones definitely not without a benefit for herself... However, Harlock could always refuse.

This time, Mime slowly moved towards Harlock and, pulling her cloak away, pressed a finger to her bare neck. Harlock knew what that meant. She knew, and didn’t want to refuse at all, and besides, the suction cup already left a very noticeable hickey...

Harlock turned around and hugged Mime’s shoulders, slowly kissing her. The feeling of cold skin also gave peace.

Mime was undressing Harlock herself. She remembered all the clasps and quirks of human clothing by heart, and Harlock was only required to help in completely inaccessible places or to interfere, stroke Mime, hug and pull her, affectionately, but impatiently.

“Weren't you exhausted?” Mime bowed her head, uttering a semblance of a laugh.

“Not from you...”

Mime playfully left a suction cup trail on her chest — not far from a large scar. Harlock did not feel anything special when someone touched it, but near Mime... every part of Harlock’s body became intimate, sensitive, and touching her brought a soft thrill. The scar was no longer just a sign of pride. Movements, either her own, or others’, became measured and unhurried. Not at all like in battle.

In general, nothing near Mime was familiar. Still.

“You need ropes?” Mime asked, not hurrying to start.

“...Yes.”

Mime nodded and got out of bed. These moments of expectation were the most painful. More strange than shameful, yet still causing a slight tingling sensation in her chest.

Surrendering of her free will was also unusual. But not like everything else.

Mime returned with long ropes in her hands. Could Kei, who had foolishly joked about the need to load them onto the ship, guessed that every joke only contains a part of a joke?..

Mime's movements became unbearable. She slowly pulled Harlock's arms behind her back, pulling her wrists, drawing a rope to her shoulders and pressing it to the body. Harlock exhaled heavily through her mouth.

But Mime remained calm. Harlock sat on her knees in front of her and trembled with lust, a space pirate who conquered many planetary systems — but Mime leisurely wrapped a rope around her leg, already wet with sweat.

Mime was used to seeing Harlock like that. And Harlock knew this very well, and therefore it made things even more thrilling.

And awkward. She could admit to herself that not being able to move her legs together while sitting in front of Mime was awkward. That is why her gentle touches on the neck, shoulders, on every scar and scratch, relief of her muscles, felt even more sharply. Harlock bent slightly in her back, afraid of her voice. Mime clutched her suction cups around her nipples, tugging them from side to side. Cool breathing poured over Harlock’s chest, calming. Harlock bit her lip. She was too excited, too much, even forgetting for a moment that this is permissible here.

Mime squeezed her nipples between her fingers, stroked her breasts, leaving even more small marks from the suction cups. But she did not go down. She made it possible to feel all the discomfort from the arousal, and Harlock could only breathe heavily, and... be completely sure that Mime was delighted with this.

Fingers slid along the waist and stomach. Mime put her hand to it, catching the beaten rhythm of breathing; the other palm slid along the hip.

“You will remain silent, Harlock?” Mime closed her eyes; the answer was a nod. “Not for long.”

She put the suction cup on her thumb to the clitoris, clutching it tightly and making Harlock mumble indistinctly. She jerked, not immediately getting used to the fact that the touch became faster and more tangible. Mime rubbed her, spreading her labia with her free fingers and getting dirty in lube. She pressed the swollen clitoris and immediately pulled the suction cup away.

“It's hot,” complained Mime.

This was not a tease: she really did not tolerate temperature extremes. And Harlock literally felt how hot it was in her crotch.

She could not be silent. And she really couldn’t move, but now it wasn’t terrible or humiliating. Harlock liked it. Mime caressed her, squelching in lube, at the same time stroking her cheek and, as if kissing, she pressed her suckers on Harlock’s lips. This, however, was the analogue of a kiss...

Harlock squirmed on the bed. In moments of tension, she became especially impatient, and then Mime deliberately slowed down the movement of her fingers. Harlock broke into a groan, and Mime, satisfied, returned to her pace. Harlock did not need much to come. Everything contracted even more inside, as if a string of harp had burst, on which Mime had been playing so skillfully all this time. Her own voice and unrestrained groans sounded unusual, and when the pleasant tension subsided a little, receding, Harlock laughed awkwardly. Not looking at Mime.

“Have you rested?” Mime bowed her head and reached for the ropes.

Harlock responded only when she was completely freed. But first she rubbed the traces of the ropes, examining her own body and even rejoicing at ordinary things like her full-body suit. Well, considering traces and hickeys throughout her body...

“Wait. Not really,” Harlock smiled.

She hugged Mime, pressed her close to her and already gave her a hickey on her pale blue neck. Mime touched her chin with her fingers, returning the kiss and making it clear that Harlock could continue.

She pulled off Mime’s loose overall, now feeling her whole. Cold and smooth to the touch; Mime's skin looked exactly like amphibian skin, except it was completely dry. For Harlock, it was just familiar. Like her angular body, which Harlock wanted to slowly kiss, stroke, be as close to Mime as possible.

A translucent line stretched along her chest obliquely. The sensitive organ responsible for telepathy (according to Mime) and an erogenous zone (according to Harlock's experience). You could run your fingers along it, stroke the skin around, and even slide across it with your tongue. Harlock covered the line with a kiss in the shoulder area, while stroking her lower part with her fingers. To all these caresses, Mime reacted with throat sounds similar to either boiling or twittering.

They were absolutely familiar and even pleasant. Like the fact that Mime was inadvertently grabbing Harlock behind her with suction cups, squinting, still cold. But Mime felt differently now.

Harlock touched her almost flat chest, never ceasing to kiss the line, which was already beginning to glow softly. Mime was not able to clearly identify her weak points, and therefore Harlock could wander her palms all over her body with a clear conscience — along her waist, hips, even her hands, and some random caress definitely caused Mime to blissfully rumble.

Harlock ran a hand between her hips, stroking her tense crotch. Mime’s anatomy was unusual once, but not now. In the end, she had a clitoris, and Harlock could easily massage it, sucking skin near the chest line...

Suction cups grabbed the skin on her back quite tangibly, but Mime was silent. Harlock could only regard this as an excuse to continue. Fingers moved faster, drowning in viscous lube as her tongue slid along the chest and a shimmering line.

Mime was silent. Now she just squinted and clung with her suction cups, and that was enough, more than enough to take Harlock’s breath away. Mime seemed to radiate tension and at the same time... peace. Harlock did not know how was it possible to feel all this in an instant and why at the moment her psyche was capable of such, but... You can get used to it too.

Harlock moved slightly carelessly, but only because she herself was aroused. She lost her pace, exhaled heavily into Mime's chest, and she shuddered at the temperature difference. But it hardly spoiled the sensations...

A pleasant and strong wave of energy gave Harlock goosebumps. It tickled her chest, causing Harlock to flinch. If that was the recoil... Everything inside Harlock twisted into a tight knot from the thoughts about how good Mime felt. The line on her chest lit up and went out, and soon Mime was laying calm and relaxed.

Harlock stood up, restoring her breath. Mime also had to recover from this, and for some time they sat in silence, only occasionally looking at each other.

“Is that all?” Mime turned her head to Harlock.

“Yes. Thank you,” Harlock kissed her where her mouth should be.

She reached out and put on her pants and went to the table. There was still an unfinished bottle... Harlock sat down at the table, pouring drinks for herself and Mime, and suddenly felt herself rested. She just needed to change... activities.

Mime went to the table, covering the line on her chest, and gratefully accepted the glass.

Harlock would have been much more accustomed to this idyll being broken by a siren of alarm, or a sudden attack by Mazone, but... nothing of this kind happened. Maybe this was the charm of such moments.


End file.
